


The Prince of Biggest-Pain-in-the-Arse-Ever

by i_amtheoutlaw



Category: Merlin (TV), Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-12
Updated: 2014-05-12
Packaged: 2018-01-24 12:56:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1605977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_amtheoutlaw/pseuds/i_amtheoutlaw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prince Arthur is having a gay crisis of new proportions, Merlin feels cheated, and John is completely over all of it. </p>
<p>Sherlock is Sherlock . . . only with a crown.</p>
<p>And this is all because that blasted picture.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Prince of Biggest-Pain-in-the-Arse-Ever

**Author's Note:**

> idk who did the pic
> 
> i find the pic 
> 
> i love the pic
> 
> the end

[ ](http://tinypic.com?ref=2ibgbom)

I. Blasted Curls, Not to Mention Fair Skin

\--

Uther reminds himself for the fiftieth time, _sending visiting princes to be flogged is unwise, no matter how much they deserve it._

\--

Merlin really could care less about the whole of it, despite that it’s all Arthur keeps rambling on about.

\--

Arthur is worried. Deeply, deeply worried. He’s heard things. Other princes and knights have told stories of black curls and vicious tongues. They’ve told stories of his right hand and its craft of sword. And Arthur, he is . . . he is not nervous . . . much. 

\--

“—because Merlin, I’ve just heard lots of things, okay?”

“Okay, sire, but I really think you should—“

Merlin’s cut off by a knock at Arthur’s chamber door and sighs in amusement.

“Yes?” Arthur yells.

“The guests have arrived, your majesty,” a guard announces through the wood. 

Merlin gives a wide grin, receives only a glare from the prat, then finds himself running to catch up with Arthur who’s already striding down the hallway. 

\--

In all honesty, Arthur was expecting more. Way, way, more. More everything. More royalty, more servants, more knights, more horses, even more luggage. 

However, despite the lack of everything else, one thing Arthur quickly notices isn’t lacking is the amount of perfect curls. 

What Arthur hadn’t heard about, though, is all the perfect unmarked pale skin and piercing grey eyes. But he figures most knights don’t usually consider the appearance of other men quite as highly as Arthur does. 

\--

Merlin’s speechless.

He’s never once seen . . .

It’s just that . . . 

Every other kingdom . . .

Oh bloody hell, he likes these guys already. 

\--

Uther looks to his wide-eyed son, who’s no doubt internally retelling every story he’s heard, then to Arthur’s idiotic manservant who’s smiling like a goblin that ate too many of Gaius’s happy herbs, and then back to their guest. 

Sighing, he brings up his hand and forces a smile, “We welcome you to Camelot . . .”

\--

II. Good Visit, Bad Visit, All the Bloody Same to Me

\--

John hates leaving their castle. 

And when he says _hates,_ John means . . . 

Well . . . 

John bloody can’t stand it, yeah? He wants to ring Sherlock’s long stupid neck every single time the prince decides it’s a good idea that he should be the one to represent their land. 

John doesn’t mind the traveling or the unfamiliar chambers. No, nothing of that sort affects him.

It’s the bloody glares, and hatred, and fowl words Sherlock causes from all the new faces around them.

At least at home everyone knows how Sherlock is, they expect it, and don’t take him too harshly. 

But visiting other kingdoms? Visiting places like Camelot?

Well that’s just something Sherlock should always leave up to Mycroft.

Of course Sherlock, being bored out of his wits for the past month, would never give his older brother the satisfaction. 

Especially when there’s possible crimes to be solved in the big city. 

\--

_Clearly a tyrant . . . hatred of magic stemming from . . . losing someone . . . no queen? . . . loss of wife then . . . Knights look . . . enough . . . loyal . . . no doubt heard things . . . Prince seems . . . wow . . . not even touching his issues with a ten foot stick . . . no princess . . . but—_

Sherlock is thrown from his thoughts and is stuck staring at the servant to left of the prince.

_Close enough to be . . . but surely he wouldn’t . . . not dressed like that at least . . . just because I’ve courted my servant doesn’t mean . . . but wait—smiling . . . okay . . . this one’s going to be tricky I see . . . how lovey . . ._

\--

John watches as Sherlock deduces these new, poor, unknowing folk and sighs. 

King Uther welcomes them with a forced smile, which Sherlock is too busy thinking to return. So John hops down from his horse, bows to the King, and smiles back.

\--

III. We Don’t Want Your Knight’s—Nevermind

\--

Arthur is confused as to why a knight is greeting their court opposed to the prince, however, he ignores it.

Until he can’t anymore. 

\--

Uther glares while reminding himself of the flogging rule. 

\--

Merlin just . . . 

Well. He really likes these people, despite Arthur’s nervous warnings. 

\--

Arthur ignores that he hasn’t once been properly greeted by the prince.

Arthur even ignores that he’s being ignored by the one person he’s supposed to be talking to and instead decides to inform the two visiting knights of everything.

But by the time they reach the visiting wing, having lost his father and the others, Arthur just can’t do it.

Not when the prince finally breaks his silence and, instead of turning to thank Arthur, turns only to Merlin. First racking the manservant up and down with questioning eyes, then saying, casual as ever, “warlock.”

\--

And just like that, Merlin’s forgotten why he ever once bloody thought he liked these people. 

\--

IV. Good Grief 

\--

_. . . acts like a servant . . . doesn’t act like a servant . . . clearly isn’t courted . . . one glance at his boots prove that . . . but what is it then? . . . got to . . ._

Sherlock turns to inspect the servant again.

_Blue eyes . . . mending . . . but what . . . bloody . . . is that . . . that . . . smell?_

Sherlock sniffs.

_Earthy but . . . where have I smelled this . . . ah yes . . . druid camps . . . but why . . . so strong . . . oh . . . oh how absolutely lovey . . ._

\--

“Warlock,” Sherlock finally spits out after staring at the kid for a creepily long time.

John is, of course, expecting something . . . some kind of deducing, but he certainly isn’t expecting that. 

And he certainly isn’t expecting the other prince to punch Sherlock in the face.

But, of course, he does.

John sighs.

\--


End file.
